Operation Rooftop
by Elfprinzess
Summary: "Your whole plan hinged on the fact that I would face you alone. That I would be alone. That no one would believe me or trust me anymore." Sherlock jumped down from the ledge and began circling Moriarty. "You didn't count on me still believing him." AU ending to the confrontation on the rooftop in the Reichenbach Fall. Please read and review.


**Hey all, this is an AU ending to the Reichenbach Fall. It was just an idea I got in my head and needed to get it out so I could get back to focusing on my study ****J**

**Enjoy, and please review.**

* * *

Putting Operation Rooftop into action was a lot easier than expected. He taunted Sherlock, teased, danced, threatened and promised and in return, the puppets had danced along to his tugging and pulling. Sherlock would come out onto the roof and be forced to jump, to end his life. The End. The Final Problem. Completed. Done. Dusted. Finished.

It was almost sad. He was going to have to go back to normal people. Back to taunting normal people and pulling their strings and finding ways of distracting himself with their terror and screams and begging.

"Sir, all three of us are in position, watching the targets."

Jim Moriarty stood from his seat and straightened his tie. "It's show time. Too bad the Final Act is anticlimactic."

* * *

"Ah. Here we are at last – you and me, Sherlock, and our problem – the final problem. Stayin' alive! It's so boring, isn't it? It's just staying." Moriarty stared at the consulting detective, smirking at the soon-to-be-dead. "All my life I've been searching for distractions. You were the best distraction and now I don't even have you. Because I've beaten you. And you know what? In the end it was easy. It was easy. Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out you are ordinary just like all of them." Moriarty sighed and shrugged, before grinning widely at Sherlock, "Ah well."

* * *

He had him beaten. He won. He outsmarted _the_ Sherlock Holmes. He knew it. Sherlock knew it. It was so clear in the man's actions, threatening to push Moriarty over, bargaining, grasping at straws. Trying so desperately to stay alive, to survive, to win.

"Your friends will die if you don't."

"John."

"Not just John. Everyone."

"Mrs Hudson."

"Everyone."

"Lestrade."

"Three bullets; three gunmen; three victims. There's no stopping them now. Unless my people see you jump. You can have me arrested; you can torture me; you can do anything you like with me; but nothing's gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only three friends in the world will die, unless,"

"Unless I kill myself. Complete your story." Sherlock finished the sentence.

"You've gotta admit that's sexier."

"And I die in disgrace."

"Of course. That's the point of this." Moriarty glanced over the rooftop and noticed the buses pulled up, the pedestrians walking around, hanging on the pavement. "Oh, you've got an audience now. Off you pop. Go on."

Sherlock stepped up onto the ledge.

"I told you how this ends. Your death is the only thing that's gonna call off the killers. I'm certainly not gonna do it."

Moriarty paced behind where Sherlock was standing. He stopped and stared when Sherlock began laughing. And laughing. And laughing.

"And they call me the crazy one?" Moriarty mumbled before snapping, "What? What is it? What did I miss?"

"This plan only works if I do what you say. If I jump. If I don't, I can arrest you. Humiliate you. Defeat you." Sherlock laughed, turning to watch Moriarty while remaining on the ledge.

"If you don't jump I have your pet, you pathetic landlady and your detective inspector killed. It isn't a matter of whether you do what I say or not, if you don't jump they die, and you won't be able to live with yourself."

"If your people are still capable of aiming and shooting at a target. See, you seemed to have underestimated 'my pet'." Sherlock smirked, confidence now oozing from his body.

Moriarty went to turn to glance around but stopped when he felt cold metal pressed against his neck.

"I really wouldn't move if I were you, I've got PTSD so if I feel a twitch, I may jerk and then you're dead." John Watson warned, pressing the gun harder against Moriarty's neck.

Moriarty smirked and said, "You've forgotten to take into account my snipers."

He glanced at Sherlock, expecting to see red dots littering his cheeks and forehead, the smirk already in place, boasting and taunting words about to tumble out of his mouth. The lack of red made him pause.

"Sorry, they're all sleeping at the moment, they got in my way." John shrugged.

"Sebastian." Moriarty snapped, expecting to see his second in command jump out of nowhere.

"Colonel Moran? He's dead. Sorry." John's voice was cold and unforgiving.

Moriarty stared at Sherlock, "How?"

"John was in the army." Sherlock pointed out.

"So was Seb."

"John is better." Sherlock shrugged, "Your whole plan hinged on the fact that I would face you alone. That I would be alone. That no one would believe me or trust me anymore." Sherlock jumped down from the ledge and began circling Moriarty.

"You didn't count on me still believing him. And even if the thought crossed your mind, you didn't think I'd be a threat." John added.

Moriarty stared at John over his shoulder for a moment, before turning back to stare at Sherlock. "You won't kill me Sherlock. You'd get bored. You'd miss me. You'd miss my puzzles." Something crossed Sherlock's face. Something that made Moriarty smirk. "You'd never kill me, not in cold blood. You're on the side of angels. You're one of them."

John spoke up. "He might not want you dead so something keeps him entertained. He might not want to kill in cold blood. He might miss your puzzles," John continued, "But that doesn't mean I will."

The noise of a gunshot made the people on the street and in the hospital pause and look around for the cause. The noise made Sherlock jump and flinch slightly away from the cause. Moriarty never saw the flinch though. He was dead straight away, the bullet hitting his brain exactly in the spinal cord, designed for instantaneous death.

* * *

Sally Donovan and Greg Lestrade reached the roof door (after being tipped off by an anonymous text) just as they heard a gunshot. They burst through the door just in time to see a body drop to the ground, falling forward away from John who stood with a gun in his hand.

John held the gun in his left hand as he crouched by the body, checking for a pulse with his right while looking up at Sherlock, "Sherlock, you alright?"

The pair of detectives were surprised by Sherlock who didn't respond, just stared in shock at the dead body.

"Sherlock." John repeated, his voice sharp and clear, but gentle at the same time. John tucked the gun into the back of his pants and stood, stepping over the body and gripping Sherlock by the shoulders. "Sherlock, it's fine. You have to keep breathing."

"Breathing's boring. Lestrade, if you were to run a DNA search on this man you will find his identity to be James Moriarty, not Richard Brook." Sherlock turned to the pair.

Donovan stepped forward, reaching for her handcuffs.

"Oh please, that's not necessary. John and I will stay here and give you our statements, but considering he had a sniper about to shoot not only John here, but also you, Lestrade and of course, Mrs Hudson, it is obvious we were acting out of self-defence. Also, I have audio proof the Richard Brook was a fake and that Moriarty was behind it all." Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out a recording device. He tossed it over to Lestrade.

Lestrade pushed play and Moriarty's voice began to be played, _"Did you almost start to wonder if I was real? Did I nearly get you?"_

_"Richard Brook."_

_"Nobody seems to get the joke, but you do."_

_"Of course."_

_"Attaboy."_

_"Rich Brook in German is Reichen Bach: the case that made my name."_

_"Just tryin' to have some fun." There was a moment of silence, "Good. You got that too."_

_""Beats like digits. Every beat is a one; every rest is a zero. Binary code. That's why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me; hidden inside my head – a few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system."_

_"I told all my clients: last one to Sherlock is a sissy."_

_"Yes, but now that it's up here, I can use it to alter all the records. I can kill Rich Brook and bring back Jim Moriarty."_

_"No, no, no, no, no, this is too easy. This is too easy. There is no key, DOOFUS!"_

Everyone jumped at the sudden scream, and Lestrade's hand knocked the stop button.

"I recorded our whole conversation." Sherlock added, explaining even though it was unnecessary.

"You are both still technically fugitives." Sally pointed out.

"Mycroft will sort that out." John added. "About time he did something to help." He murmured, not meaning for anyone to hear, but everyone did anyway.

"What makes you so sure you'll get out of this?"

* * *

Lestrade stood in front of the press, reading from the paper in front of him that had his statement written out and planned. "All the articles in the newspaper about Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty, or 'Richard Brooks' if you'd prefer have all been misled and for that we apologise. Mr Holmes was working for the government in an undercover operation to discover the truth behind Moriarty, and whether he was behind several terrorist attacks or not. He had to do everything and anything that was necessary to maintain his cover, even when the newspapers began publishing the articles and he appeared to be in the wrong."

While Lestrade continued with his prepared story, clearing Sherlock's name and reputation, Sherlock and John were watching on their TV.

"John," Sherlock began.

"Yeah Sherlock?"

"Thank you. For, you know, the rooftop and all that."

"It's all fine Sherlock."

The pair were silent for a few moments. "Just, Sherlock,"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever need my help and have to leave clues or obscure messages or something, not so obscure or complicated, you're damn lucky I figured it all out in time to come save you, and that was only because I went to Bart's in a hope of finding you to ask and found Molly."

"Molly told you?"

"She pointed up and I realised you meant the roof from the gesture and ran up here."

"I knew you would figure it out, which is why I left them."

"Yeah, but still, I'm only an ordinary human, an idiot."

"You're not an idiot, my dear doctor, not at all."

There was silence for a few more moments again.

"Thanks Sherlock."

* * *

It was two weeks later, the press had begun to die down, what with John and Sherlock staying in their flat out of sight and the fact that anyone who knew anything was refusing to talk.

The police had a new case, one that was impossible for them to solve, so Lestrade had had no choice but to head to 221B Baker street and ask the Consulting Detective for help. Mycroft had spoken to the Chief Superintendant and had convinced him to agree to letting Sherlock help in the difficult cases. So when Lestrade turned up at the door, was let in by Mrs Hudson and walked up the stairs, he had complete permission to enlist Sherlock's help.

If only the man had been there to give it.

Lestrade took one glance around the flat and knew that John and Sherlock weren't home. He turned to leave, but found a note on the back of the door.

_Greg,_

_Sorry if you've turned up for help and found us gone, but Sherlock got a lead and we had to go in a hurry (and the press were getting annoying). We've gone to hunt down Moriarty's organisation and break it apart. We'll be back in a few years when it is done. Mycroft is keeping an eye on us, if you get really desperate, he can forward the details of the case for Sherlock to look when he has a chance._

_Cheers,_

_JW_

_P.S If you could perhaps get rid of the press, give Mrs Hudson a break, that'd be brilliant, if not, I'm sure they'll figure out we're not actually home and will all leave eventually. Thanks_

Lestrade glanced out the window at the press still camped out, waiting for a glimpse of the two 'undercover agents'. He left the flat and went down to tell Mrs Hudson to stop buying milk for the boys.

On his way out, his phone dinged, signalling the arrival of a text.

He opened his phone, and saw that the text was from an unknown number. He opened it to read it.

_It was the neighbour, the one with two cats and blue glasses – SH_

Lestrade rolled his eyes and called Sally to tel her to arrest the neighbour. Lestrade then got another text from the same unknown number.

_He says she left cat hair on the carpet and body and her glasses paint was cracked and falling off, there were specks of blue with the hair – JW_

He grinned and typed his reply.

_Thnks, both of u :) Good luck with hunting_

He got into his car, not saying a word to the press, and drove away. Halfway down the road, he received a third text.

_Speak proper grammar, Inspector, lest you come across as an uneducated buffoon – SH_

He didn't have to wait long for the text from John.

_Sorry, he took the phone out of my hands – JW_

His phone dinged almost immediately afterwards.

_John should not have apologised, it is absolutely appalling to have to read badly worded texts. I put up with the text speak, so at least try with the grammar. – SH_

Lestrade shook his head and texted back;

_Sorry mate, I won't do it again, if only to give John a break from your whining – GL_

_I am not whining! – SH_

_Yes he is – JW_

_Yes you are – GL_

Lestrade didn't get another text from the pair for a few weeks, and that was only from John, repeating what Sherlock said about a case the police were stumped on. Needless to say, Lestrade was amused by Sherlock's stubbornness, but was used to it.

* * *

**The End**


End file.
